


The Herald's Restlessness

by al_fletcher, athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Juniper Hawke & Marzia Cadash [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking to Cope, Early Mornings, Gen, Herald's Rest, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Demands of the Qun, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Revelations, Prompt Fill, Skyhold (Dragon Age), Soul-Searching, Tea, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/al_fletcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Marzia Cadash has a lot on her mind, and sleep isn't finding her. Varric steps in to help, albeit a little unwillingly.(Set after Here Lies the Abyss and Demands of the Qun, partway through Revelations)
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke (mentioned), Blackwall/Female Cadash (mentioned), Female Cadash & Sera (Dragon Age), Female Cadash & Varric Tethras
Series: Juniper Hawke & Marzia Cadash [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121555
Kudos: 1
Collections: DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fics





	The Herald's Restlessness

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Varric gingerly stepped over the threshold of The Herald’s Rest, lantern in hand, with Sera a couple of steps behind as they approached the figure hunched over the bar, a lone candle providing all the illumination for the bottom floor of the tavern save for a few others hanging off the columns.

“Is she alive?”, Sera whispered into his ear harshly.

“Shh!”, he retorted. “I’m trying to hear for her breathing.”

Marzia Cadash, almighty Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste for whom the tavern was named, slowly glanced at them, saying, “I can hear the two of you, you know.”

“Right, that’s me done, having fetched Skyhold’s counsellor,” Sera said, yawning performatively as she headed up the stairs. “Normally I’d love to chat with you lot but, it’s like, three hours before the sun’s up, yeah? I can barely get any sleep in this place when you’re all tearing the place up, you know.”

“All right,” Varric said to the empty space where Sera had been. “Just leave me to handle this all by myself, sure. Thanks for nothing.”

Her voice sounded from the second floor, shouting, “I snuck out the window to go fetch you and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Just go to bed!”, Varric shouted back, muttering to himself again, “Andraste’s sake, either sleep or don’t, just don’t try and have the last word all the time.”

“What’s this all about, then?”, Marzia asked as she turned around to face Varric. “I didn’t know there was a public enquiry out for me.”

“Nothing like that at all,” Varric answered, “Just that Sera noticed you were still here and in a state long after even Bull had packed up and left and, well, she didn’t want to come down the stairs to check if you were still breathing so she went all the way to the main keep to find me.”

“Why you?”, she asked, before clarifying, “Not that I meant—”

Varric shook his head as he drew up a barstool, saying, “Don’t worry yourself with it, Bashful. She, and half the people here, must figure that I’ve got the magic touch or somesuch. So, your Inquisitorialness, what’s troubling you?”

Marzia crossed her arms, saying, “Whatever makes you think that I’m in trouble?”

“Not that you’re, strictly speaking, in trouble, Your Worship,” he explained, “But you have to admit most reasonable people aren’t up at four in the morning at the bar, downing…”

He sniffed the air to identify her drink of choice as she picked her mug up to display it, saying, “Tea. The kind Solas despises. But yes, I’ve got a killer headache already, so I do appreciate your current volume.”

“Things must be pretty bad if you’re drinking Solas’ tea of all things, Marzia,” Varric said, finally addressing her by name. “I was thinking you were looking a bit morose even as the Chargers were coming this close to tearing down the whole place. You’ve done a great thing there—I think Bull’s feeling better than he has in ages, that’s for sure.”

Staring into the bottom of her mug, Marzia said, “I don’t know about that. Anyway, this is the first thing last night that…well, you can read it for yourself.”

Marzia took out a small scroll and handed it over to Varric who pored over it, picking out the most relevant parts of the note, mouthing, “ _Rainier freed from Val Royeaux, en route to Skyhold, arrive here tomorrow or…_ oh. Well…”

“…Shit,” she finished, taking it back from him. “Now you might understand why I’m not exactly overjoyed right now.”

Varric nodded, saying, “This would be rough on anyone, but especially you, seeing as well, the two of you weren’t trying to be subtle or anything. Still, maybe you want to get some rest so you’re fit to pass judgement once he gets here.”

Marzia suddenly pounded the table with her mug, arguing, “That’s the problem! Who in the world thinks _I’m_ fit to judge him, given that we…oh, it’s such a mess, Varric! I should have just left him in that cell, but…”

“But you don’t mean that, do you?”, Varric gently asked. “And, well, you’re the one person who _can_ judge him outside of whatever courts they have in Orlais, and that’s not really an option anymore, is it?”

Heaving a deep sigh, Marzia said, “No, you’re right. About both things. But…it’s insane, Varric! Everyone in the world is waiting on me for answers, but what am I?! I’ve just sunk our alliance with the Qunari, and what did I base my decisions on? Not being able to bring myself to watch Bull’s guys get slaughtered? I’m not fit to be choosing how the world’s going to go from here.”

“You say that,” Varric mused, “But sometimes the best decisions aren’t made by suppressing your gut feelings, they’re made with your heart…as corny as that sounds. Also anatomically confused, I realied. Besides, I know the qunari well enough to say that even if they’re grateful to you for their precious dreadnought, I’m actually a little relieved they’re not going to keep a presence over hereabouts. Call it personal prejudice, but that never sat all that well with me.”

“Personal prejudice?”, Marzia pressed.

“Yeah, well,” Varric said, “They can camp peacefully for a few years, and then try and tear the entire place to shreds, and still say they’re being morally consistent before and after. Maker knows how they’d justify coming down here as a permanent presence, you get what I’m saying? Even when they withdrew all their aid, they still left a knife for the Bull.”

“Maybe you’ve got a point,” Marzia said, scratching the back of her head. “But see, _you_ could’ve made that decision with all that information! I wasn’t even thinking that hard!”

“And maybe you didn’t need to,” Varric countered. “You’ve got a great deal more wisdom than you’re giving yourself credit for, I think.”

“Really, now?”, Marzia asked back. “I…allowed myself to believe in our resident false Warden and even went to him for…comfort…and I’m still meant to judge him less than two days from now. What are people going to make of it?”

Idly looking for something over the counter for himself to drink, Varric said, “I genuinely think you’re being far too harsh on yourself for that. After all, Sister Nightingale was a veteran of the Blight and she didn’t put the pieces together all that long before we did.”

Sighing again, Marzia continued, “I don’t know where important people even get all this wisdom and judgement from, Varric. I wasn’t anyone important in the Carta, just someone sent to hit problems with a sword. Uncle Gavius always made the big decisions when it came to us…even here I’ve got Cullen, Josephine and Leliana to give me my options. When it came to the dreadnought or the Chargers, it was just me. And I chose based on…well, you already know. And then there was…”

Varric filled a mostly-clean tankard with something from the keg behind the bar, pausing halfway through his sip to ask, “There was what?”

“And then there’s Hawke…”

Silence reigned in the empty tavern as Varric slowly paced around the bar to sit by Marzia. Looking into his own mug, he downed a good quarter of it whilst considering his words.

“Is this what it’s about then?”, he asked carefully.

“Yes,” Marzia said, tears streaking down her face. “No. I don’t know, Varric. I’m sorry, but…I made the choice. I made a choice that hurt you, the one thing you wanted to avoid when you got caught up in this. I’m so sorry…”

Varric stared through the wall in front of him, finally saying, “No, I don’t think you did.”

Looking for something to wipe her eyes, she asked, “I didn’t what? Hurt you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that was your choice to make. I don’t know how much you remember from my account but Hawke’s brother, Carver, he owed his life to two Grey Wardens. One you’ve met, Ser Stroud, who’s reporting back to Weisshaupt this very moment.”

“And the other?”, Marzia asked, drying her eyes on her sleeve.

Varric let himself have a bitter laugh as he offered a cloth from his pockets. “The one who got us all into this mess. Well, the mess Part One anyway. Good old Blondie.”

“Anders? But didn’t she…”

“Funny way the world works, huh? She wound up falling in love with him during their time together in Kirkwall, and went along with all his grand plans and schemes until she realised where she was headed with them. And then…well, you know the rest, I believe.”

Mariza pressed her fingertips into her forehead, rubbing it in a bid to think harder. “But what does that have to do with…?”

“I’m getting to that,” Varric said in between sips of what had turned out to be ale. “It was Anders who brought a Carver who’d been Blighted to Stroud and the other Wardens to save him with the Joining, and that’s why he of all Wardens was Hawke’s contact. If Anders hadn’t known the way, and if Stroud hadn’t been able or willing to act, there wouldn’t be any Hawkes left in this world. Do you get it now?”

“I…so, when Stroud tried to give his life to cover our escape…”, Marzia said, trailing off.

“It wasn’t your choice to make, not really,” Varric said, continuing, “Hawke owed her brother’s life to two men, one of them she herself killed, and here was one volunteering to die for her sake. Well, I reckon she felt that didn’t have a choice either. It took me a long while to figure it out, but there it is.”

Silence hung in the air with that conclusion, until Marzia finally spoke up.

“So, what does that all come to? How do people make these choices? Or how _don’t_ they make them?”

Varric looked over to her, saying, “Hell, you think _I_ know? The best advice I can give you—and I’m speaking as someone who started drinking ale at four in the morning—is to make sure, for as long as possible, that you have a real choice and things aren’t taken out of your hands because by that point it’ll all be too late.”

Marzia blinked as she absorbed his worldly wisdom, saying, “You know, I think that almost makes sense.”

“Come on, it’s the best I can manage at this hour,” he said, “You want some actual advice? Go get some sleep. No good choices were ever made in taverns this early in the morning.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, clinking her mug against his.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/641065801982623744/


End file.
